


Sudden, Instant, And Even Immediate Death

by Kablob, mylordshesacactus



Category: RWBY
Genre: Actual On-Page Sex, Canon Trans Character, Domestic Fluff, Equally Trans Female Author, Everything A Goddamn Teaching Moment In Area Polycule, F/F, Hair Brushing, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:20:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25312975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kablob/pseuds/Kablob, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylordshesacactus/pseuds/mylordshesacactus
Summary: Running a political campaign while being an entire city's first line of defense against demons can be a bit stressful, especially if you have a habit of overworking yourself.Thankfully, Robyn knows how to get her least happy huntress to relax a bit.
Relationships: Robyn Hill/May Marigold
Comments: 32
Kudos: 134





	Sudden, Instant, And Even Immediate Death

The water pressure in their current apartment was, Robyn was forced to conclude, absolute garbage.

She closed her eyes and pressed a washcloth over her face, leaning back into a genuinely pathetic trickle of water. At least it was hot. Beggars couldn’t be choosers; in their price range, looking for a short-term lease because they didn’t dare stay in the same place for more than a few months, this was what they could get.

Still. She’d had worse, they all had. And tonight Robyn just _desperately_ needed a hot shower, no matter how unsatisfying it might be.

Robyn had earned every withering joke and elbow to the ribs she’d ever gotten for being, in Fiona’s words, a politics nerd. She _loved_ these town-hall meetings. She hadn’t even noticed the time ticking over four hours until May finally got her attention. What had been intended as a twenty-minute warning had turned into “you’re already five minutes over time” before Robyn noticed that she was in fact starving.

Two months ago when her “campaign events” had by necessity been small and informal, they probably would have been set up at a local bar. These days, recovering from the events required a little more time and coordination.

And _gods,_ but she hadn’t noticed how sore she was until she’d ducked into the shower.

Robyn took a long, deep breath before reluctantly turning the water off. She would _never_ hear the end of it if she didn’t leave enough hot water for the others.

By the time she’d thrown on a set of ratty pajamas and emerged back into the kitchen, May was already boiling water for tea. Robyn paused, and didn’t bother suppressing a smile. Not that it stopped her from sighing as she finished shrugging on a bathrobe.

“I _told_ you to _relax,”_ she pointed out.

“Oh, this? I was just heating some for the rest of us because I figured you’d, you know, use all the hot water up again.”

Robyn rolled her eyes fondly. “Oh, really? I didn’t know you bathed in—” She took a quick glance at the box of tea packets on the counter— “Equinox Brand Licorice Root Black Tea Blend. Must be some fancy Atlesian thing I don’t know about.”

“It’s good for your skin.”

“Mmmhmm.” Robyn picked up the box. “‘Seventy milligrams of caffeine per serving’? It’s a quarter to midnight, May.”

May managed to groan with her whole body. “I just want to go over some stuff in the schedule before bed. Don’t be like that.”

“Like _what,_ Miss Marigold?”

Rather than answer, May tried to swipe for her box of tea. Robyn deftly tossed it in the air and caught it in the opposite hand.

“We have chamomile above the fridge,” she pointed out.

“Fine, then I’ll make you some.” May’s second attempt to grab her tea back was stymied when Robyn passed it behind her back. “Fuck off.” Robyn silently held the box over her head. “Fuck _off,_ you’re _not_ taller than me!”

“By an inch,” Robyn corrected, and got an elbow to the gut for her trouble.

May gave a triumphant _“Ha!”_ as she wrestled the box of tea from Robyn’s grip; Robyn, never inclined toward admitting defeat, flung an arm around her neck from behind and locked May’s left elbow in her own.

“Give,” she ordered.

She got an expressive scoff in return. _“Make_ me!”

“Don’t think I _won’t,_ Princess.”

May glanced over her shoulder with a deeply pitying expression. “Oh, _Robyn.”_

Robyn wasn’t entirely certain what happened. All she knew was that two seconds later May had her pinned against the doorway to the kitchen, one wrist bent in a direction wrists were not supposed to bend and the other arm pinned in an iron grip between her shoulderblades.

At that moment, annoyingly, was the sound of the door opening, sticking, and being shouldered past the threshold. “Hey guys!” Fiona called out. “We’re ba—oh, are we beating up Robyn?”

“No, we’re not!” Robyn replied, muffled against the wood.

“She was asking for it,” said May. Robyn grumbled darkly under her breath about Atlesian tyranny, but May released her with little more than a snort.

Joanna, grinning like a worthless traitor, shoved the door closed with only mild difficulty. “We brought food.”

“Well, _I_ brought food,” Fiona clarified.

“I helped.”

“You _supervised.”_

“Girls,” Robyn said patiently, shaking blood flow back into her extremities. “You’re both pretty.”

Appeased, Fiona began producing quarts of fried rice and sweet-and-sour chicken from the all-night Mistrali takeout place down the street, stacking them ominously on the kitchen table. Fiona wasn’t incorrect: she had, in fact, done all of the lifting, heavy or otherwise. There was really no reason she couldn’t have gone alone, honestly, except…

They didn’t go places alone.

“Is that everything?” Robyn asked as Fiona shook her hand like it had been burned, finally jostling free the last fortune cookie to place delicately on top of the tower. She got a cheerful thumbs-up as Fiona all but skipped over to finally give her a hug.

“Well I’ve got enough Dust arrows to outfit a small army in there, but aside from that I think we’re good. There might be some gum if I _really_ dig.”

“What would we do without you, lambchop.” Robyn ruffled her hair, then reached behind her back and yanked the box of licorice tea out of May’s hands without looking. “Hold this for me, won’t you?”

 _“Hey!”_ But by the time May had finished indignantly protesting, Fiona had already sucked the box up into her palm. Good woman, that Fiona.

Joanna dipped a piece of chicken in sweet-and-sour sauce, shoved it in her mouth, and gestured toward the bathroom, because she was smart enough to know when to duck into the shower and escape the current nonsense.

“Very funny.” May held out a hand. “Fiona, give that back.”

Fiona scooped a paper box of fried rice off the table and settled into a phenomenally shitty armchair with a spoon, holding it protectively, the picture of innocence. “Give what back?”

May rolled her eyes. “ _Ugh._ I actually _need_ that, you tyrants.”

“You need sleep,” countered Robyn, calmly. She poured the provided sauce over the top of her takeout box and sat down on the floor rather than walk all the way to the couch. Belatedly she realized she had forgotten to grab a fork; getting up to find one suddenly seemed like entirely too much work, so she felt around the edge of the table until her fingers found the set of disposable chopsticks that had come with their order and unceremoniously stabbed the nearest chunk of chicken. Continuing as if there had been no interruption, she added, “And _I_ need _you_ at your best.”

“Oh, _I’m_ sorry,” May snapped. There was a stubborn glint in her eye that Robyn knew well but...hadn’t expected over this, to be honest. “Here I assumed you needed your debate points prepped, a coordinated schedule of campaign events, and ethically-sourced fundraising merch on order! _None_ of which is going to produce itself. _Give me the damn tea,_ Fiona.”

Fiona, suddenly visibly, viscerally uncomfortable at finding herself in the middle of this, looked from May to Robyn with her hand half-raised. 

There were acceptable reasons to pull rank and this wasn’t one of them; Robyn inclined her head slowly and glanced toward Fiona, who produced and handed over the box with an expression of wary relief.

“At least eat first,” Fiona said as May took the tea from her shimmering hand with passable grace.

May shot her a look. She didn’t quite argue, but there was an edge when she replied, “Yes, _mother.”_

Fiona’s ears drooped at her tone, but May did set the tea aside for now as she fetched a plate and dumped her food out over it.

Robyn continued methodically spearing her chicken. Fiona polished off her fried rice and a quarter of Robyn’s before she had the heart to chase her off it; May at least seemed calmer as her blood sugar returned to normal, and eventually smiled and pushed the rest of her own rice in Fiona’s general direction.

“Wait,” she said as Fiona kissed her cheek and made to run off with her spoils. “Wait. Get back here.” May reached out, clicking her chopsticks in Fiona’s face before snatching one last shrimp out of the box. “There. All yours.”

Joanna, rejoining them wearing loose sweatpants and a worn t-shirt for a band Robyn had never heard of and Joanna probably hadn’t either, held up Fiona’s as-of-yet untouched chicken.

“Are you gonna…?”

“D’n t’ch my ch’ck’n,” Fiona mumbled around a mouthful of rice. She swallowed heavily and pointed her spoon like a deadly weapon as she got to her feet. “I’m taking a shower and that better still be here when I get back!”

“All _right,”_ said Joanna. “I was asking.”

Fiona squinted distrustfully, marched over to the table, and slapped a glowing hand over her chicken before leaving.

Robyn shook her head, despairing. “No trust. You’d think she lived with a bunch of _thieves._ May,” she added quietly. “Leave it. Relax for a minute.”

May had somehow managed to shovel down the entirety of her chicken and rice in half the time as the rest of them despite the fact that she was the only one actually bothering to use the chopsticks or eat at the table off a plate, like some kind of civilized person. Robyn’s gentle censure had been prompted by their resident aristocrat standing and starting to reflexively clear the table.

“I can relax when I’m dead,” May muttered, but she at least sat back down.

Robyn couldn’t help rolling her eyes a little. “If you don’t relax soon the stress will kill you before the government gets the chance,” she teased.

May’s smile was...just a bit too thin. “Oh right, yeah, the stress of trying to make _you_ part of the government. Here’s to robbing James Ironwood of the satisfaction.”

She got up again; this time Robyn let her go, exchanging a loaded look with Joanna behind her back.

May getting sarcastic and short-tempered when she was under stress was normal; May taking cheap shots, or snapping at Fiona for any reason, was...not.

 _She okay?_ mouthed Joanna from across the room. Robyn winced and, with a glance into the kitchen to make sure May wasn’t looking, made a subtle so-so gesture at around hip height.

_“I saw that, Robyn!”_

Robyn sighed and let it go for now, polishing off the remains of her chicken and cracking open a fortune cookie that informed her that morality separated heroes from villains. _Wow, really makes you think._

Fiona returned in record time, settling cross-legged back into her vacated armchair and pulling out a box of still-steaming chicken. May, who had just managed to get her water to boiling, sighed as she removed it from the burner again and went to take her shower.

Joanna shook her head in wonder, staring at Fiona. “Where does she _put_ it?” she mused.

Robyn laughed softly. “She _has_ to be using her Semblance.”

Fiona, who had been openly storing snacks in her pocket dimension for longer than any of them had known her, flipped them off.

“She didn’t deny it,” observed Joanna. “Robyn, get her.”

Robyn smiled but shook her head mildly. Fiona stuck her tongue out at Joanna and continued shoveling chicken into a bottomless void.

Robyn glanced over her shoulder into what passed as the master bedroom, onto which connected the only full bath in the apartment. Smile fading slightly, she got to her feet and went into the kitchen, picking up May’s hellish tea blend and turning it over in her hand.

“...Robyn?” said Fiona, an edge in her voice. “I don’t think you should take her stuff.”

Robyn blinked, startled, and gave a quick reassuring smile. “I’m not, lambchop. Don’t worry.” She could still faintly hear water running, and that decided her as she switched off the stovetop. She made eye contact with Joanna as she crossed back through the living room, reflexively ruffling a worried Fiona’s hair. “You two can entertain yourselves for a few hours, can’t you?”

Fiona’s ears canted forward in understanding; Joanna gave an expansive shrug.

“Sure,” she said. “I’ve got an anthology disk I haven’t inflicted on you guys yet. I think there’s one here that’ll get you.”

Fiona rolled her eyes. Joanna’s comprehensive library of decades-old black-and-white sci-fi horror B-list “classics” made regular appearances during movie night, and had provided endless hours of entertainment primarily through its inability to rattle Fiona even once.

“They’re all dead and have been the whole time,” she said after exactly two seconds reading the first blurb on the back of the case Joanna had produced. For the next, equally deadpan, she guessed, “The Atlesian attack is a false alarm but the townspeople turning on each other in a panic attracts the Grimm and they all die anyway. The little girl is herself in the past. It’s a cookbook—” 

Wordlessly, Joanna snatched it back before she could ruin any of the others.

Robyn, lips twitching, shrugged out of her bathrobe and slung it around Fiona’s shoulders. Fiona reflexively pulled it close and breathed deep, snuggling more firmly into her armchair nest.

 _“Behave,”_ Robyn told her.

* * *

May would in fact die before admitting that the excessive length of her hair could, occasionally, under rare circumstances, be kind of a pain in the ass.

Finally satisfied that she’d wrung as much water out of it as was realistically possible, she separated it into a handful of long sections in the vain hope it would air-dry enough in the few hours before the caffeine wore off that she wouldn’t have to wake anyone up with a hairdryer.

May dug several wide, inelegant clips out of a drawer under the sink, pinning the sections in place while her thoughts wandered. She’d been workshopping phrasings and subject-line variations in the shower, and she thought she almost had it.

 _Are you willing to donate_ ….It was a fundraiser, and thank the gods Robyn had built her reputation on being frank and honest because if May had to wrap that fact in oil-slick euphemisms she would lose her mind. But the people of Mantle had little enough to spare, she couldn’t come on too hard… _Are you able to pitch in..._. Better.

They were at the critical point now. May pulled out a fine-bristled round brush and an assortment of stuff brushes and varyingly-sized combs by rote instinct. A _critical_ point. Jacques Schnee would have support by default; he controlled half of Mantle. Just by announcing he’d cleared the field of the other sorts of repulsive bastards who always won “elections” in the Kingdom of Atlas. And Robyn was good enough, was charismatic and energetic and well-known enough, to challenge him. She was the _only_ one in Mantle who could—but she had yet to significantly break away from the pack.

She only had to keep up her momentum to pull that off. But keeping up her momentum meant continuing to make _sure_ Robyn Hill was a household name; and that required money and _exposure._

One of those things they were sorely lacking, and the other kept May up at night because not even Robyn’s paranoia came close to understanding exactly how dangerous the SDC could become and she suffered from a debilitating excess of Standing In Places Where She Could Very Easily Get Shot.

She’d done well at the town hall today. She could ride that momentum into next week’s fundraiser if she kept up her good humor; the forecast predicted a blizzard, which meant heavy rain and possibly hail, but Robyn had a way of giving this down-to-earth little wry smile that made fundraising events warm and bright and welcoming; sometimes nasty weather made event turnout _higher,_ once Robyn cracked a relatable joke about it.

Not bothering with a robe—there was no one here but the four of them—May slung a towel across her shoulders and let herself out into the bedroom. _We need to raise..._. No, _it’s crucial we raise_ had been better…

Robyn was on the bed, lying on her side, head propped up by her elbow and flashing May a _devastating_ smirk.

“We ran out of hot water,” May informed her flatly.

Robyn raised an eyebrow as May sat at the edge of the bed, pointedly turning away from her in favor of sitting down in front of the cracked mirror on the nearby dresser. She pulled out a scrap of old t-shirt—gentler on long, fragile hair than a towel—and began resolutely pressing more water out now that the air was less humid.

“Did we?” Robyn’s voice dripped sugar. “I wonder whose fault _that_ was. But I’m sure it had _nothing_ to do with the girl whose showers take as long as the rest of ours combined.”

Unable to argue—it was, in fact, the reason she almost always showered last—May settled for ignoring her team leader with as much dignity as she could manage.

In the mirror, she could see Robyn scooting across the bed towards her, so it wasn’t a surprise when she felt a brush drag slowly through her hair. “Need some help with that, Princess?”

“In your dreams,” May muttered, making a herculean effort to pretend that the sensation wasn’t sending a thrill down her spine.

Robyn chuckled. “Are we bringing my dreams into this? _That’s_ a bold choice.”

May rolled her eyes. “You _really_ think you’re suave,” she observed.

“Yep,” said Robyn, without missing a beat.

“So!” May continued brightly. “Is this the dream about a perfect solution to Mantle’s infrastructure problems that you got up at three in the morning to write down and the only thing on the paper the next morning was ‘bridge’ spelled with a J, the one where you forgot about an Academy final, or the one where you showed up to Atlas orientation without pants?”

“You’re getting warmer.” Robyn radiated amusement as she picked up a wide-toothed comb and began working it through the tips of May’s hair. She’d helped with this often enough that she didn’t need any of the lectures about friction or matting.

Which was unfortunate, at the moment, because that would have been an excellent distraction and May could use one right now.

“Was it the one where you conquered Atlas and put Ironwood and Schnee’s heads on pikes? I _really_ like that one.”

“That was one of _yours,_ if I remember correctly,” said Robyn. Her hands in May’s hair never paused; she turned up a tangle midway through the section of hair she’d been working on, and switched to a ball-tipped brush to gently work it out.

May realized with a slight jolt that she’d stopped working on her own hair at some point, and hurried to start again before Robyn noticed. Judging by her smile in the mirror, she did not succeed.

After several more seconds, she remembered that she’d been saying something.

 _“Right.”_ She very pointedly dragged a comb through hair she had emphatically finished brushing several minutes ago. “So then the one where—”

The vast majority of her cognitive function halted mid-sentence as Robyn pressed a chaste, lingering kiss to the side of her neck.

After several seconds, Robyn said, “Come to bed.”

It was soft, quiet, tender, and unquestionably an order.

“...Robyn, I’ve got _so_ much stuff I need to do,” May said. It didn’t sound weak to her ears at _all._

“Mmhm. Go ahead and get up.”

May shot her a warning look in the mirror. “I am,” she said, sounding much more convincing this time. “As soon as I’m done I _am_ setting up in the kitchen and I’m finalizing your policy statements and setting up a proper debate rehearsal schedule.”

“Fine.” Robyn sat back, amused enough and having given up suspiciously easily enough that May’s eyes narrowed. “If you won’t take a break, then talk me through it.”

May was not convinced.

She couldn’t exactly _argue,_ though, so she picked up her comb again and started working on her last unattended section of hair while Robyn watched with half-lidded eyes.

“Right,” said May, slowly. “Well. You’re going to want to hit hardest on infrastructure. The only real competitor there is Ivy Brown and her entire policy structure falls apart the moment she’s pressed on how much she wants to cut taxes.”

Robyn hummed. “I see.”

May opened her mouth, then closed it. Literally every other time she’d brought this up, Robyn had interjected to protest that it had been May who’d first encouraged her to lean on miner’s rights, which was what she wanted to do anyway. May had very nearly reached the point of reciting “that’s your strongest weapon against Jacques Schnee specifically, and if you ever want to get far enough in this field to get a chance to face him you have to distinguish yourself from the rest of the pack first” in her sleep.

She wasn’t _complaining_ about the lack of pushback, but Robyn not taking the bait was deeply suspicious.

“...Anyway,” she said. “We need to refine the phrasing of your public housing policy statements—”

“Take your hair down,” murmured Robyn.

It was the same tone as before, and May’s heart fluttered— _no it didn’t, shut up_. She was halfway toward reaching up for a hair clip before she caught herself; and by that point Robyn’s sharp eyes had already more than noticed the movement and aborting it would just confirm that May hadn’t _intended_ to listen to her.

“My hair’s already down,” she griped; but she’d finished combing it out anyway, so she pulled the clips free and set them aside. She picked up the brush. “Like I was _saying,_ Robyn. The policy statements as they stand were fine up until now, but the pundits on ABN are going to audit the hell out of them for contradictions so we...have to...”

“Hmm?” asked Robyn mildly, running her fingers slowly through May’s hair again, massaging firmly along her sore neck. “I didn’t catch that last part.”

“...so we have to make sure they’re all consistent...” May’s breath stuttered as Robyn repeated the motion, scratching just a little as she worked her fingers through thick navy hair. “And, ah…good...”

Robyn’s fingers tightened again; this time she used the motion to grip a handful of May’s hair just at the base of her skull. Painless but unyielding, she pulled back in a single steady motion that dragged May onto her back with her head resting comfortably in Robyn’s lap.

Robyn was smiling serenely down at her, and May...was fully in control of her mental faculties, thank you. She cleared her throat. “You really think this’ll be that easy, Robyn? You just pet my hair for a bit and then I’ll let you have your way with me?”

“Is that what you want?” Robyn’s voice was a calm, polite knife to her heart.

May cleared her throat again.

“You wish.”

Robyn’s _shit-eating grin_ didn’t falter as May felt a tinge of Aura flicker down by her shoulder, lavender meeting indigo—

May narrowed her eyes. “Bitch.”

Robyn’s thumb traced languidly down the line of her jaw. “That’s not an answer, Marigold.”

For several long seconds, May glared up at her and furiously debated whether she would retain more dignity by sticking to her guns and letting Robyn’s Semblance do the work for her, or telling the truth and denying her the victory of catching May in a lie.

Since Robyn getting one over on her was obviously unacceptable, May finally worked her jaw and crossed her arms, still flat on her back and having to crane her neck to make eye contact.

 _“Fine,”_ she said. “You win. You’ve used your _incredible_ observation skills to cunningly determine that I would personally rather have sex than do homework.”

Robyn’s eyes glinted. “Good girl.”

May couldn’t control the shudder that ran through her—that wasn’t fair, that wasn’t _fair,_ Robyn couldn’t do that to her, that was _cheating—_ and Robyn did _not_ have any right to look that smug, May was _fine,_ there wasn’t any evidence of what Robyn was doing to her on the inside—

Ah.

Right.

That’d do it.

 _Traitor,_ May thought at the only part of her body that had _ever_ been good at standing at attention.

Robyn lifted May’s head off her knee just long enough to slip free before lowering it back to the mattress, straddling her stomach and nudging her further onto the bed so that Robyn could settle over her hips.

Which, incidentally— _no one_ had the right to look that mouth-wateringly drop-dead gorgeous while wearing orange plaid cotton pajama bottoms and an oversized plain t-shirt. That was illegal.

Robyn casually pulled the damp towel from around May’s shoulders and tossed it aside. May lifted her head to make it easier, moved to gather her hair out of the way for something to do—but Robyn caught her before she had the chance. Well. “Caught”. If May was being honest with herself, which frankly she was rapidly losing the brainpower for—it was barely a touch. Robyn’s fingers brushed against her wrists and she _melted_ into the nonexistent pressure as her hands were guided down on either side of her head. 

_“Good girl,”_ Robyn said again.

May _keened,_ she couldn’t help it—it was a tiny, desperate, strangled noise that was muffled into nothing as Robyn gripped her chin and pressed forward into a searing kiss.

Robyn’s tongue flicked gently between May’s lips in what could not more clearly have been a command; May reached up reflexively, fingers tangling in the soft hair at the nape of Robyn’s neck, holding her close. She was— _unfair,_ May thought wildly as her free hand clutched at Robyn’s shoulder, she was _unfairly_ good at this. Robyn, teeth tugging at her lower lip, allowed it for a moment; then she pulled back, just enough to speak.

“Hands where I put them, beautiful,” she said, voice mild.

May’s hands hit the mattress with a speed that would have embarrassed her if she’d had a functioning prefrontal cortex. Before she could think she’d gasped, _“Yes ma’am.”_

Robyn’s eyes flashed, visibly dilated, and she let out a long, slow breath. 

Something nearly imperceptible shifted in her expression; May had barely a split second to take a breath before Robyn’s mouth was at her throat. Calloused hands ran up her sides until an undignified whimper forced its way out, at which point Robyn gave a silent, approving squeeze. Teeth nipped experimentally under May’s chin; and then Robyn nudged her way behind the curve of May’s jaw and sucked, _hard_ —held on until May felt Aura flare under her skin in response, until she was forced to arch into the contact. 

Robyn sighed into May’s skin as she released her hold. “Do you _want_ something, Princess?”

May growled incoherently, pressing into her again, managing after a few attempts to hook one boneless leg around Robyn’s hip. At some point she’d shimmied out of her ugly pajama pants, and how May had missed _that_ she had _no_ idea.

She’d been fucking _distracted,_ all right?

“Oh, we’re asking _now?”_

Robyn grinned. “Well if you want me to _stop…”_

“Robyn, _I know where you sleep and I will kill you—”_

Two fingers placed calmly on her lips cut her off like flipping a switch, and Robyn smirked.

“You know,” Robyn mused after several seconds of listening to May’s breathless panting. “If there _was_ something you wanted, you could _try_ asking nicely.”

Robyn removed her fingers and May, for her dignity’s sake, decided to lay it on thick. “Oh yes ma’am, Miss Hill ma’am,” she said in the flattest voice she could manage at the moment. “I’d appreciate it so _very_ much if you— _aahhh!”_

That extremely undignified gasp had been because Robyn already knew exactly what she wanted, the _fucking bitch_ —she’d gently pressed her hips down and taken May inside her.

“Would you look at that,” murmured Robyn, who barely had the decency to sound breathless. “When you _tell_ me what you’re thinking—”

May made a strangled, incredulous noise. “Are you—serious, are you really doing this _right now—”_

“—It turns out that I can actually _help_ you once I know what you _need—”_

“Shut up,” May groaned. Robyn, who had at no point stopped mercilessly riding her, laughed softly and brushed a stray lock of midnight-blue hair out of her face. “Shut up shut up _shut up—”_

Robyn leaned down to kiss her again, and May stopped trying to talk.

She did not, to her eternal shame, require much convincing to shut up. It was just slightly possible she’d been a tiny bit wound up, and—stress, and—it wasn’t _her_ fault Robyn was cheating, she couldn’t _control_ how well they knew each other’s bodies by this point, the point—the _point_ was, the point _was_ that her orgasm didn’t quite sneak up on her so much as club her over the head with a lead pipe from behind.

The world filtered fuzzily back into existence with Robyn gently carding through sweat-soaked hair on her forehead. May made a halfhearted attempt to say something and gave up after a few seconds. Robyn smiled at her, but the expression faded into an open, attentive look. She picked something up from near the headboard, holding it up until May managed to focus on it.

“This is yours,” Robyn said quietly, setting May’s box of all-nighter tea beside her. “I overstepped.”

May hummed in faint agreement.

“Overreacted,” she acknowledged.

Robyn gave a half-shrug. “Maybe. I can ask you not to pull an all-nighter, May, but it’s still your decision. So I’m asking. Stay up if that’s what you need to do. But do it because you think it’s necessary. Because it will accomplish something. Not because you’re trying to punish yourself.”

Damn her, anyway.

May closed her eyes for several long seconds.

Finally, she opened them. “You’re an insufferable menace, you know that? _Please_ tell me you know that.”

Robyn’s lips twitched. “Oh, I know.” She chucked May lightly under the chin. “Do you want to go again?”

May closed her eyes again.

“...Yes _ma’am.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, we wrote smut. It was an open question as to if we could co-write smut but as it turns out the answer is yes and now there's a whole world of opportunity ahead of us.
> 
> Side note, Robyn's on birth control and May is probably shooting blanks at this point anyway, we're neither sex-ed teachers nor teenagers terrified of getting eviscerated on Tumblr for depictions of unsafe sex. Sue us.
> 
> If any of you are weird about May having a dick I'll fucking annihilate you, don't test me.


End file.
